


Elixar

by Storyqueen4444



Category: RWBY
Genre: But NOT the bad make you fall in love kind, Fluff and Smut, I'm Bad At Tagging, I've ben told its very similar???, Love Potion/Spell, M/M, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-06-03 11:58:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6609871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Storyqueen4444/pseuds/Storyqueen4444
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James didn't plan on drinking it, it was all an accident, really. Probably the stupidest mistake of his entire life.</p>
<p>Or maybe the best.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Elixar

**Author's Note:**

> So this was supposed to be posted for the Smut War...but then my computer broke down. Twice.
> 
> Anyway, thanks to AniPendragon for betaing, and please go check out their work. It is fantastic, there are seriously no words for just how fantastic they write.
> 
> So here it is, the first thing I've ever posted on the Archive and probably the smuttiest thing I've ever written. Enjoy!

James Ironwood had never truly been a patient man.

It came from being an experienced soldier—a man who had fought in battles where a single moment of pause could end up killing you or your entire team—and then a general, expecting every soldier under your command to obey without question or hesitation.

Waiting for any sort of information under the circumstances… was so much worse than waiting for an update on field patrols.

James had never meant to end up in this situation. His work with Dr. Polendina had reached a critical stage: the artificial creation of emotions. Emotions were an essential part of being alive, of possessing a soul; and where there was a soul, there was an aura. The good doctor had been attempting to reproduce the feelings Project P.E.N.N.Y would need by testing the way certain chemicals found in the brain would react when stimulated with electricity and dust.

While not a scientist himself, James had still been roped in to carry and transport many of his colleagues’ flasks and beakers since his occupation took him all over the world; the general would pick up and drop off whatever the mechanic needed when he visited a specific country and school, and then return to Atlas with Polendina’s formulas in hand. James had been hesitant to allow himself to become the sort of middle man for the doctor and bring possibly harmful and unknown substances onto his ship, but Polendina had assured him that the only way most of the chemicals he requested would harm someone would be if they were ingested.

As James had foolishly done not mere moments ago.

As mentioned earlier, the Atlesian general hadn’t meant to swallow an entire mouthful of whatever he was currently carrying around for the good doctor. He had been sitting at the nice dining table his Vale hotel had provided, reading the many emails and messages updating him on what was going on back home and Ozpin’s latest little clandestine meeting, all while sipping from his trusty canteen to give him a good buzz before bed. Said canteen that he had obviously placed a little too close to Dr. Polendina’s latest order of concoctions.

James hadn’t noticed he’d grabbed the wrong drinking container until he’d already chugged down a good deal of the foul tasting liquid. He’d barely had time to scrunch his nose in disgust and think _well, this definitely isn’t my liquor_ before succumbing to the effects.

The rush of heat had come fast enough to make him gasp, glass and scroll slipping from his hands and falling to the floor with a clatter he barely remembered hearing over the pounding drum of his own racing heartbeat. The simple, comfortable nightshirt and sweatpants he was wearing suddenly itched everywhere the fabric touched his abruptly oversensitive skin and metal limbs. James had groaned, flesh hand clutching his head while the other steadied himself on the table, his vision having become dark and far away as blood rushed to his groin abnormally fast.

The effects had quite literally taken the Atlas general’s breathe away, leaving him panting for air as he was hit with an intense lust the likes of which he had never even experienced as a teenager.

When his brain was finally able to work through the fog that now clouded over his mind, he realized two things: first, that he was hard enough to cut _diamonds_ —literally, most likely, considering the accident that had left him in the need of prosthetics had led to him needing to replace _that_ specific limb as well.

Second: he really hoped he hadn’t just guzzled down a death-by-blue-balls potion.

So there James lay, waiting anxiously for some sort of reply to the frantic email he had sent Dr. Polendina what felt like an eternity ago, he couldn’t tell how long. Long enough for him to have cum three times without his member drooping in the slightest.

The first orgasm had been to attempt to relieve the stress and because… well, it had been a while. Though that hadn’t worked out as he’d hoped, it had seemed to at least take the edge off for a moment. He’d managed to write and send the message and pull himself out of the chair in order to waddle swiftly over to his large bed before giving into temptation. After the second, he thought it best to switch to his trusty right hand over his left; even with the copious amounts of lube he was sure he’d be using tonight, James most certainly didn’t want to chafe the skin off his fingertips because of his metal member, even if he did have to be gentler with himself.

It was as James worked himself up for what he hoped would be lucky orgasm number four that the distressed general began to notice a pattern. Picturing his normal fantasies and imaginings only took him so far, right to the edge of that wonderful dive without pushing him over.

He had been frustrated the first two times, tugging his straining cock in an effort to achieve climax even as he pictured bouncing breasts or hoarse, masculine voices groaning in his ear. He thought about a pair of warm hands in place of his one, just as callous and rough as his own. In his mind’s eye, a hot, wet mouth descended to engulf the tip just moments later, making the general moan loudly into his empty room…

And of course thinking of mouths reminded James of that damnable Qrow, with his snarky attitude, constant drinking and brawling… his apparently perpetual windswept gray-black hair, perfect for tugging as cocky, dull red eyes peeked up at him from where the huntsman sat between James’ legs...

And that was how James had achieved the first of many orgasms. Just the thought of his comrade in arms, his friend, the man he’d secretly had a crush on for _years_ sent James spiraling into one of the most wonderful, screaming orgasms of his entire life. After the first all he could do was sit in that chair, panting as he came down from the high.

James had barely had time to grab his fallen scroll and crawl into bed to try for number two before the need had taken him again.

The next time he came it was to the thought of Qrow in his lap, grasping their hard cocks together. Then it was to the man over him, grinding against James’ steel penis. Now, the general’s thoughts were consumed by visions of Qrow under him, taking James’ thickness, moaning and begging for more as they began moving together in tandem…

With a cry, James released all over his fist, jerking his hips to chase the feeling and leaving all of his limbs shaking. He fell back onto the bed, gasping for air. His relief was only temporary, however, the burning lust at the back of his mind assuring him of that.

This wasn't the first time James had brought himself off to the thought of Qrow, even before this weird concoction. He'd always felt guilty about doing it, though; the man was his colleague and friend, and was always there when James needed an ear or a hand in battle. Some called the scrawny old huntsman a reckless idiot, but Ironwood had fought alongside the smaller man long enough to know that was anything but true. Qrow was probably one of the greatest tactical minds of his generation, next to Ozpin of course (though he wasn't quite sure what generation his fellow headmaster was from).

And James had seen the way he doted on his two nieces, the way his arrogant demeanor softened to something warmer, something feathery and light. James wanted to feel that warmth and light directed at him, too.

Unfortunately, Qrow had never shown even a hint of interest in the same sex, much less with Ironwood. Continuously contemplating the man like an obsessed teenage boy was neither productive nor good for the man, dragging his thoughts down into a sagging darkness nearly as terrible as the period he'd suffered after the loss of half his body. 

The longing and pining in his heart was only hurting James, so dreaming of the intelligent, caring, snarky, and handsome huntsman in such a way wasn’t helping him, Qrow, and—more importantly—Ozpin and Remnant.

For now, he was (had to be) content with his occasionally random drinking buddy as simply that: a drinking buddy with a habit of breaking into his hotel whenever he was in town.

James sighed angrily as he reached for his scroll, hoping his prayers to end this had finally been answered. But there was nothing—no new message from the doctor, no new voicemail, vid call, nothing!

The Atlesian general threw the scroll off the bed with a growl, frustrated at his colleague’s silence. He really shouldn't be surprised, James should have figured this would happen; it had been late when he'd sent the terrified email to the mechanic, and even if Polendina was still awake he was no doubt throwing himself full-heartedly into his work yet again, oblivious to the outside world.

James was hard again, but he was too disappointed to reach down for a fifth fucking time. He pulled the covers up over his insisting dick instead, clutching the blanket as if that would cure his affliction.

He shouldn't think of Qrow that way, he should stop doing this altogether. For all James knew, he was just making his condition worse.

If he tried, maybe he could sleep it off, and be better in the morning…

*~*~*  
Qrow hated being sober.

Sobriety brought back memories, pain, and unwanted feelings. Not to mention killer hangovers. He fought better drunk anyway—and he adored fighting.

But the one thing he loved more…

Was _flying_.

Angling his jet black wings, Qrow dove down to weave between the arcing streams of water of a fountain, occasionally letting the droplets of water touch his wingtips.  
The shapeshifting huntsman had always loved this feeling. It was even better than the adrenaline rush of battle, the giddy haze of being drunk; hell, it was better than the two sensations combined! It would probably be good drunk too, but he'd learned that lesson the hard way (he still remembered Raven’s laughter when he'd hit that barn so long ago).

It had been too long since his last free flight as a crow, too caught up in his hunting missions and keeping track of the Four Maidens for Ozpin. He'd also lost a taste for it once his sister had left, leaving him to fly solo rather than with her.

Not to mention that when he wasn't out there, fighting for his life and the lives of his precious nieces, he was training and teaching one of said nieces. Taiyang and Summer’s little Ruby had a talent for battle, and the old teacher definitely saw potential. He was even thinking about taking her under his metaphorical (rather than literal) wing and training her to use a scythe. Pairing that natural talent and the deadliest weapon imaginable with her mother’s latent powers… she would be a force to be reckoned with.

He just hoped she never had to become that force.

Qrow pulled up to land on a lamppost, catching his breath and taking in the view of the city. He was close to the CCT Tower, near one of the many hotels that would soon be filled with visitors from across the world for the upcoming Vytal Festival.

Looking up at one hotel in particular, the crow gave an amused, mischievous cackle. He had landed near where the newest member of Ozpin’s little group—General James Ironwood—would be staying until the end of the festivities.

Of course, he said newest like the man hadn't been participating in their secret club for several years now. Maybe it was his age, maybe it was the fact that he’d been a spy for Ozpin and his team for far longer, but to him, he still saw the man as a fresh young general/headmaster who’d just been opened to the dark truths of the world.

Not that he didn't think highly of the Atlesian, despite being, well, _Atlesian_. He was a great general and headmaster, even if Qrow didn't personally agree with the way his students were trained. And Qrow had seen the man at his lowest, after the disaster that had left James in need of prosthetics.

For a man to make a comeback like that after such a trauma… Qrow could respect that tenacity. Maybe even admire it.

An admiration that had become something much more.

These… _feelings_ had crept up on Qrow, slowly and subtly, like a stalking Beowulf before it went in for the kill. He himself hadn't even realized his own heart had strayed until it was literally staring him in the face.

The two were sitting around in Ozpin’s office awaiting the arrival of their mysterious leader and Glynda, awkward silence between them, when Qrow had brought out his flask.

“What exactly is that stuff?” the stark-white soldier had asked as the caped warrior took a sip.

Grinning maliciously, Qrow handed over his secret booze to James with an “It’s all yours if you want it, Jimmy.”

“It’s James,” was all the general instinctively said before tilting his head back for a drink.

Only to sputter and gag the contents back out. “My god, what is this stuff?!”

Chuckling at the coughing man, Qrow took his canteen back and made a show of taking a large gulp of the brew. “A liquor of my own design. Nearly as powerful as my scythe, though far less awesome.”

James had just started to regain his composer when Qrow noticed it: the one, single graying hair out of place on his normally perfect head, just over his ear. Before he truly realized what he was doing, the Qrow had reached out try and brush the hair back into place.

And then had snatched his hand away as if burned, hiding the almost-action under the pretenses he was brushing some of his unruly bangs out of his rusty eyes. The general hadn't seemed to notice, thank goodness.

Later, when Qrow had drunk enough to knock out a normal man, he finally came to the realization: he was in love with the tin man. He didn’t know how, but he was in love with the stuck up, strict, heartless leader of the backwards Atlas Academy.

Yet even as he thought that, Qrow knew that that was a lie. He'd seen the way Ironwood treated his men, the loyalty and trust in each soldier’s face as their general led them in and out of battle with the Grimm. Had seen the compassion and care he held for so many people, so many lives he wanted desperately to save. The way he laughed, joked, and playfully bantered with Qrow during their talks. His courage, his heart, his love…

And Qrow wanted that love.

The present Qrow shook his avian head. This was why he should never be sober, too many gushy thoughts and feelings get involved when he hasn't had any alcohol.  
Still, he could at least tease the object of his affection and court him the crow way. Well _similar_ to the crow way, that is. He was rather reluctant to strut out his chest and butt in front of James; even drunk Qrow had some standards.

So why not fly up and take a peek at the slumbering general, maybe pop into his room unannounced through the window? He'd done it before, and damn if he didn't enjoy startling the larger man out if his wits and maybe getting a good eyeful before getting booted out. It would just end up being something for them to laugh about later, for James to ask just how the huntsman would do it and for Qrow to just smile mysteriously before taking another shot of his booze.

Qrow alighted on the windowsill, not surprised to see lights on inside the general’s usual room. James had a tendency to keep late nights doing paperwork or some such shit. Sometimes he would fall asleep working, making it the perfect chance for Qrow to startle his friend.

Quickly shifting back into human form, Qrow planted his feet on the wall and grabbed the sill for support. With one hand he expertly opened the unlocked window (James had begun to leave them like that after Qrow had broken the first few) and then flew through as a crow once more, landing on the clattered table and observing his empty surroundings.

The crow hadn't seen James when he'd peeked in, so wasn't at all surprised at his absence. He was, however, surprised to see the broken glass on the floor and nearly full flask of James’ fancy liquor beside a number of other bottles.

Hopping off the table, Qrow was human once more when he hit the ground, the glass crunching under his boot. Taking another quick look around showed no sign of forced entry or a fight, so the shards may have been the result of an accident.  
But then why would Mr. Perfect General leave a spilt mess of…whatever that was…in his carpet? He always left his rented rooms as flawless as when the maids had taken care of the place.

Qrow unhitched his weapon from his back and activated its sword form.

He checked the kitchenette and den area first, finding it clear of threats or invaders, before moving on to the open bedroom door; another sign that something was amiss. A window was one thing, but James would never just leave a door open like that, especially one that led right into the bedroom.

Inching his head in, Qrow found the faint light of a nightstand table illuminating the elegant room, reflecting off the silver on James’ back and shoulder. The huntsman felt actual panic when he finally took in James’ appearance: flushed like the man had gotten a bad case of sunburn, almost always perfect hair disheveled, and body curled into a tight ball as if in pain. There was an odd whirring sound filling the room, almost like a fan that has been running too hot in the middle of summer.

“James!” Qrow shouted, dropping his sword with a clatter and rushing to the general’s side. He straddled the larger figure, taking one metal and one muscular shoulder in each hand and shaking the man. “Shit, James—wake up!”

The heat coming off the man was feverish, and the iron plates on his right side was practically burning against Qrow’s hand. Now he knew where the buzzing was coming from, what it meant; there must be some sort of engine keeping James’ mechanics cool—and the fans in it were trying their best to keep the man from overheating.

“God dammit, Jimmy!” Qrow snarled, jostling the larger man harder. “If you die, I am going to kill you, dammit!”

There was a scroll nearby on the floor, probably James’, blinking with some sort of email notification. Qrow dropped the Atlesian into the pillows, causing James to groan, and reached over to try and call for some sort if help.

Only to end up swearing colorfully when he found it password protected.

“Fucking fuck on a fuck, James, of all the times you god damn paranoid bastard!” Qrow shouted, angry and scared enough to almost throw the damn thing.

His yelling and hurried movements must have finally been enough to wake the general, who groaned loudly and blinked tiredly at the huntsman with pupil-blown blue eyes. “…Qrow?”

“Jimmy! Oh thank god, please, I need the pass code to open your scroll, you're sick or you've been poisoned or…something! We need to get you to a hospital, stat—”

Qrow was quickly quieted by a pair of soft, hot lips on his own, shocking the trained huntsman into inaction. He didn't know how long he sat there, completely frozen as the object of his hidden affections and nighttime fantasies kissed him senseless; long enough for a hand to have slipped up to cup the back of Qrow’s feathery-haired neck and a tongue darting around between his lips.

As soon as he realized how far his most likely drugged friend had gone, Qrow tried to gently but firmly pushed the other man back down. “Jimmy, you need to listen carefully,” he said as soon as his mouth was released. “You're not in your right mind right—ngghhh!”

The huntsman was cut off once again with a gasp as James mildly tugged the soft hairs at Qrow’s nape to leave his neck exposed, allowing the general easy access to lick and suck at his colleague’s throat. The other hand—James’ smooth, warm metal prosthetic—swirled sweet, caring circles into Qrow’s hip with the thumb, and for some reason that was the sensation that aroused Qrow the most.

Qrow moaned at the hot, moist mouth expertly peppering his neck with kisses and hickies, his now more than half-hard cock twitching with interest at the sensations. It was better than any wet dream he could have imagined, right there for the taking, and yet…

Qrow tightened his grip on the cold scroll and grit his teeth, grounding himself against his friend’s (beautiful, soft, wondrous) mouth. “Jimmy, please,” he said hoarsely. He coughed to try and clear his throat. “Jimmy, you really need to listen to me and stop this. It may feel like a good idea, but trust me, it is definitely not what you want right now.” _I’ll never be what you want..._

The Atlesian ignored him, the lips against his neck continuing their pleasant journey down to his collar bone. Qrow had to bite his lip to keep from whining when he felt the barest hint of teeth nip him and an added pressure at his hip. He felt something hard pointing into his inner thigh through the sheets and pants, and god damn that shouldn’t be such a turn on.

“Come on, Jimmy, please.” There was no response. “James—”

Much to his relief, that action triggered a pause in the general’s routine. James pulled back to look Qrow in the eye, his own dark blue irises clouded and blown out by arousal. “You…you called me James.” And no, Qrow refused to let that low, sultry voice tempt him, no matter how hard his dick twitched in his pants at the sound.

“Well, yeah, that's your name, you iron dick!” Qrow snarled furiously, tears pricking the corners of his garnet eyes. “What the hell happened to you, I thought you were in pain, or dying, or worse god dammit!”

James just blinked. “It's just…you usually call me ‘Jimmy.’” Realizing he still held the huntsman in a less than appropriate position, the Atlesian let go of his hold of Qrow’s hair and hip. “You…you're real.”

Unsure of what to say to that, Qrow awkwardly brought a hand up to feel his colleague’s forehead and cheeks the way he had Ruby or Yang when they were sick. “You're still burning up,” he told James. He shoved the scroll back toward its owner. “If you don't want to go to an ambulance, call for a doctor to come here if it's your damn image you're so concerned about.”

Crinkling his eyebrows together, James scooted back to allow Qrow to crawl off from where he had positioned himself. “No, I'm not calling for anyone; if I'm not dead yet, then there’s nothing to be worried about.”  
Qrow could feel his eyes brighten with further anger. “Not dead _yet_?! What the actual fuck, Jimmy? You thought you were going to _die_ and you didn't tell anyone!? What if Glynda or I had come around tomorrow when you didn't show up to Oz’s little meeting and found you here _dead_?! You…you…fucking _idiot_!”

Even in the state he was in, James was still able to block the blow Qrow tried to land at his stupid metal eyebrow. “When the effects set in, I was pretty optimistic that my stupidity wouldn't kill me,” James attempted to justify. “And for your information, I did tell someone about my…affliction, and I'm waiting for a response back.”

Qrow halted his half-hearted beating, looking down at the scroll he still held and the blinking white notification glaring him in the face. He grinned sadistically.

“And would this response come in the form of say...a message or email” Qrow asked, shaking and holding the scroll up teasingly.

Frowning at the fact that his colleague was obviously trying to avoid the argument by making him pay for his mistakes, James reached for the scroll, only to have it jerked out of his range.

“I don't think so,” Qrow informed the Atlesian, all playfulness in his voice gone. “Passcode first. Then _I_ read this mysterious little email aloud to you so I’m not left in the dark about this and can make sure you actually get some help if you're actually dying.”

“Qrow…” Ironwood sighed in defeat. He contemplated arguing with the huntsman, but the stubborn look on Qrow’s scraggly face was too familiar to entertain the idea for long.

James gave the smaller man his code with a reluctant grumble, settling back down on the bed and curling back in on himself in hopes to cover his shame. His proximity to the man he’d been jerking off to mere hours ago had made him impossibly harder. Screw diamonds, James could probably drill into bedrock with this thing.

Opening up the email, Qrow cleared his voice for dramatic affect and began reading to his friend. “‘My pristine colleague’—wow, the guy sounds like a real butt kisser—‘I am pleased to tell you that the liquids you ingested aren't poisonous in the slightest! They are chemicals the brain produces when a person feels an emotional, romantic, and sexual attraction toward someone.’”

James—who had been smiling with amusement at Qrow’s rather impressive voice imitation if a man he had never met—stiffened at those words. Qrow himself had also shown interest in this part of the message, tilting his head like a bird in curiosity.

“‘Ingesting them will simply give you increased stamina, production of semen, and a need for post-coital contact.’ Wow. I'm honestly impressed I can say this with a straight face,” Qrow said drily. “‘While I'm positive your situation is no doubt…uncomfortable…’ real scientist, this guy. ‘My advice to you for solving this situation is to simply take care of the symptoms as they appear, thinking of or being with the one you hold a desire for until the chemicals fade out of your system. However, given your age and metabolism, as well as the estimated amount you’ve said to have ingested, I must warn that it could last a good while before it finally runs its course.’”

Qrow finished his reading, dropping the hand that held the scroll to his lap as his brain processed this new information. There was tense silence between the two for a while, a million panicked thoughts running through James’ head as he prayed the clever crow didn't figure things out.

“…so you basically decided to swallow a love potion?” the huntsman finally cracked out, turning to James with a smile on his face and…was that hope in those red eyes?

James grimaced at that teasing voice. “It was an accident, I assure you,” he began to argue. “I left my canteen by the test tubes, I didn't know I was unscrewing the wrong—”

“I don't need the details of _how_ , Jimmy-boy,” Qrow interrupted casually. “I care more about the _who_.” James could feel his burning blood freeze. “As in, who were you thinking about when you were ‘taking care’ of your little issue before I popped in, because I'm pretty sure more than sleeping was involved in this little endeavor.”

James glared daggers at the very man he had been thinking of inappropriately to cure his arousal, despising just how bright he could feel his cheeks were. “I don't believe that’s any of your business, Branwen,” he said clearly, hoping the last name would formalize this awkward situation a bit. “You read the doctor’s message; I'll be fine, so I believe it's time for you go—”

“Not so fast, Jimmy,” Qrow snapped with his serious tone again. “I think this is certainly my business. When you came to, the first thing you said was my name; not Glynda’s, not the Ice Queen’s, not Ozpin’s—mine. And thank goodness for that, because any of them would have been really weird or disgusting.”

James could only stare at his colleague silently, an emotionless mask covering up any feeling that might betray him.

“Anyway,” Qrow continued. “After you see me and quite obviously think I'm some sort of wet dream come to bestow upon you my undying love or whatever it is your drugged up brain was thinking, you start kissing me senseless in a way they even I—with my many, many years of sexual experience—was thoroughly impressed with and enjoying.”

Qrow’s red irises flashed when he saw it; a crack, an opening in that stern-general-façade. “But then you go and ruin the fun when you figure out I'm the real deal, and like the good man you are, you refuse to take it further with someone you think you'd be taking advantage of.”

Nearly overcome with hope, James placed one hand on Qrow’s, his cobalt eyes searching garnet questioningly.

Qrow placed a hand on the back of the general’s graying neck in return, purposely copying and reversing their positions from earlier. “Would this be a bad time to tell you I've had…feelings for you for a while now?”

“And how do I know you're serious, Qrow?” James accused in what he hoped was the gentlest way possible, but he just had to know. A part of him was a little surprised that he could still talk, nearly overwhelmed by how close Qrow was. “How do I know you're not just saying that just to sleep with me? You've never done commitment before, why should I believe you're willing to start now, with me? You’ve never even shown interest in the same sex before.”

“You mean I've never bragged about my male conquests to you?” Qrow said with surprise. He seemed thoughtful for a moment. “Well shit, that’s a fault on my part…” The huntsman laughed before returning to his semi-serious attitude.

“As for the matter of sex…I'll be the first to admit that I like sex—a _lot_ —and who in their right mind wouldn't want to spend a night with you? And the last time I had a serious relationship was pretty much never.” This he said with a frown, pausing so his sober brain was allowed to feel sadness and regret for a few moments.

Then he returned his gaze upward, staring deeply into the dark blue pools he had come to love, to the man he had adored silently for so many years. “But…but I am willing to try, James. I'm willing to try with you, if you'll have me.”

Grinning widely, James brought a hand up to caress a scruffy cheek, pleased to hear his proper name rather than Qrow’s little nickname. The action drew the huntsman closer, so very tempted to take the plunge but needing to hear what James said next.

“If we're putting everything out on the table…” James said hoarsely, quietly, almost afraid to finally say the words aloud at long last. “I…may have wanted to ‘try’ with you…since the day we met.”

And with that, Qrow rushed forward to taste those sweet lips once more. James could feel the matching smile against his own as they moved together sensually, the general refusing to let his burning need take over and rush them by using his famous iron will to smother those feelings. He was just beginning to ease into something heavier when Qrow used a hand to firmly push the larger man away.

“Wait, hold on a second,” Qrow insisted. He gingerly threw himself off the bed and out of the room, cape trailing behind him as he rushed excitedly into the kitchen.

James blinked at the door, mouth agape with disbelief. “Qrow?” he finally called out in concern. “You know you're sort of leaving me hard and hanging here!”

A chuckle from the next room, paired with the sound of tinkling glass and footsteps. “Not for long, Jimmy-boy,” said the huntsman. “That doctor guy said you had increased stamina, right? Just need to make sure I can keep up with you; alas, even I, with all my skill and mastery of the art of sex, have been forced to succumb to the withers of time and age. You need my help, and I'm gonna need a little something extra if that's going to happen.”

_A little something extra…he didn't mean…_ oh no.

“Qrow. Qrow no, that's a stupid idea—!” James tried to tell him, rushing out of bed too quickly to be concerned about his state of undress below the belt.

Too late, the sound of a shot glass clunking against the wood table met the James’ ears just as he'd poked his head out the doorframe. “Ugh, this shit tastes worse than your fancy scotch!” Qrow managed to choke out through his gagging.

James clambered over to him hurriedly, the ache between his legs forcing him to walk the time honored stride of a man with a boner. Seeing how awkward his new lover was walking, Qrow smirked, eyeing the general’s erect penis thirstily. “Oh, the name really does fit! So tell me, when exactly does this stuff start to kick in, General Iron—”

Qrow’s rusty eyes widened, his question answered for him as the chemicals hit his system. “Shit,” was all he said, knees giving out as all his blood rushed to fill out his cock.

He would have crashed into the chair Ironwood had been sitting in earlier had James not wandered over just in time to sweep him off his feet. “Dammit man!” Ironwood muttered. “I told you it was a stupid idea.”

“Yeah, knew it was stupid, too,” Qrow said weakly, leaning his head against James’ massive chest. “Didn't care.”

Shaking his head, James waddled back over to his room and bed. “Jimmy…” Qrow moaned, bringing a hand up to clutch and tug at the undershirt the general still wore. “You and I…wearing too much…”

The huntsman’s breathing was getting faster, something James remembered meant the affects were beginning to become _really_ noticeable. “Please…”

James bit his lip to contain his own whimper; he never expected to hear Qrow of all people beg, and he was surprisingly turned on further by this realization. “Hold on, Qrow, just a moment longer,” he soothed, reaching the bed at last. He eased the smaller man down onto the sheets, teasingly keeping his mouth away from any of the flushed skin now so close and ready for the taking. 

“James, please,” Qrow moaned desperately. He leaned up to try and catch the James’ mouth with his own. “Kiss me!”

Beaming, James complied with the needy demand, letting all his fire rush forth to consume the now equally burning man. He placed his hands, both flesh and metal, on Qrow’s hips as the smaller man mewled and wrapped his arms around those broad shoulders. Qrow tried to thrust his hips against James’ eagerly, too lost to even use some of the finesse he had acquired and bragged about just moments ago.

That pulled a growl from James’ throat. “No, not yet,” he ordered, tightening his grip on the man and holding his hips down. “I want to savor this.” He kissed those panting red lips once more, enjoying the betrayed look on the normally jovial hunter’s face. “And like you said: we're wearing too many clothes.”

As he had done so previously, James worked his mouth down Qrow’s jaw and neck, removing his steel hand to bring it up and start unbuttoning the gray suit his bedmate always seemed to wear, starting from the bottom and moving up methodically. When he reached the last, topmost button, James smirked up at a highly confused Qrow as took the bottom in his mouth and unhooked it—with his teeth.

“Holy shit, Jimmy,” Qrow whined. “Where the fuck did you learn that?”

James hummed appreciatively, taking in the sight of the muscular, scarred body of his new lover. “I used to have quite the life before my promotion,” _before the accident_ , he communicated silently, gently thumbing one of Qrow’s erect nipples and smiling. “Learned a trick or two along the way.”

“Lucky me—ahhh!” was all the huntsman could get out before James took one nearly oversensitive bud into his mouth. And because it would be rude to leave the second unattended, James used his prosthetic to tenderly pinch and tug the other, which made Qrow moan louder and use a hand to dig into the graying head of hair.

With a final lick, James released the nubs to continue focusing on the task at hand. Qrow sounded like he was about to lose his mind, the dose of whatever Polendina had recently requested still so fresh to his body that he couldn't think as clearly as James, who had been affected longer.

But James planned to change that soon enough, moving his mouth down to kiss and suckle at each scar on the seasoned warrior’s body, his hands busy unhooking Qrow’s belt and then sliding them down those slender hips. He was very pleased to see that his new lover had neglected to wear underwear—or perhaps he never wore them, James pondered with another bright smile. Shoes were the next to go, tossed to the floor without a care, and James carefully avoided the bright red phallus Qrow was trying to direct his head towards.

When he heard the clank of metal and leather hit the floor, James pulled away just enough to look down at the desperate, gasping man under him, the look in those clouded red eyes causing shivers to race up his spine. “Qrow,” the general said quietly. “Qrow, are you listening to me?”

Huffing as if to say “Of course you idiot!” Qrow nodded eagerly, running his hot hands up James’ arms pleasantly.

“I want to fuck you,” James said, voice practically growling. “Will you let me?”

“Oh god yes,” was the enthusiastic response, Qrow’s hand on James’ shoulder covering the faint light that glowed there and squeezing at the thought of finally feeling his heart’s desire inside of him. “Where's the lube?”

Chuckling, James leaned over to reach inside his nightstand, where he always kept his lubricant during his visits, no matter what hotel he ended up staying at. This was the first in a long time for him to use it on someone besides himself, however. First time he had someone kiss and nip at his neck while he fiddled around for the jar, too.

Once he had it, James placed it on the bed and pulled away fully from his Qrow, hands positioned to remove his shirt before hesitating. Despite the knowledge that the man under him had seen all of James’ scars and cybernetics and the man’s own admittance of attraction, admiring his appearance was far different from…actually seeing it— _feeling_ it—in bed.

Warm, calloused hands slipped under James’ shirt, each inch of skin and metal that was touched tingling with anticipation. Returning his deep blue eyes to meet with Qrow’s own rust ones, James saw a shred of something cool shining through the burning lust: trust, compassion, and…dare James hope for love?

Together, the two men slowly lifted the undershirt over James’ head, revealing the harmonious meeting of flesh and metal, steel and iron plates hiding the cords and wires that imitated nerves, muscles and organs that kept James alive. Qrow brushed his hands over the seam between the two, the mechanic in him admiring the soft glow and warmth as the hardware processed dust and aura.

Feeling James tense at the action, Qrow soothed away his insecurities by bringing the man down for another deep kiss, hoping this would reassure without words.

When they broke away once more, James paused to look down at Qrow. “I don't have condoms,” he told the huntsman.

Qrow grit his teeth in frustration at the further delay. “I’m clean, but I got some in my pants,” he explained. Upon promoting from a raised black eyebrow, Qrow continued with a growled “I don't want to end up accidentally knocking someone up, ok! And what kind of role model am I for my nieces if I brought home a petri-dish full of diseases?”

That made James laugh, a sound that tickled something in Qrow’s chest. “Well, I'm clean, and it's not like I can catch or pass on anything with this thing,” James said with a nod toward the protruding penis in question. “So would you be fine with…?”

“I'd be ok with pretty much everything and anything at this point,” Qrow groused, using a heel to nudge the general’s (oh, very nice) ass into gear.

Chuckling some more, James moved down the huge bed until he was facing Qrow’s straining erection, red and weeping pre. It was around equal girth to James’ own penis, a metal model of his original, though perhaps an inch or two shorter. Licking his lips eagerly, the Atlesian slowly took the cock into his mouth, eyeing Qrow’s reaction.

The sight he was rewarded with was nearly enough to make him come. Qrow’s red eyes alight and practically glowing, looking at James like he was the most beautiful creature in the world. Flushed chest heaving and gasping as those same hands—which had been gentle again his skin and plates—were now clutched the sheets as if trying to strangle the fabric. James would have grinned triumphantly if his mouth weren't full.

While Qrow was distracted, James plunged a couple of fingers into the lube, collecting a copious amount before bringing them up to the other man’s entrance and slipping inside. He rubbed the oily liquid to the tight inside walls, relaxing the muscles and drawing out the most delicious moans from Qrow. With his tongue James lapped at the head of Qrow’s penis before sucking it down, digging his fingers in further at the same time.

James repeated the process a few times, marveling at how easily his new lover’s anus relaxed under his treatment. Perhaps it was the drug in both of their systems, perhaps it was the apparent experience Qrow had acquired from his past lovers (a thought that didn't sit well in James’ stomach) but he couldn't really care at this point, his own cock straining and twitching with each sound Qrow released from his lips.

Plunging another slick finger deeper into the warm tissue, James briefly brushed that little bundle of nerves, planning to tease the huntsman to the brink before sliding his dick inside. Instead, the contact caused Qrow to shudder and scream James’ name in pleasure, ass clenching around those thick fingers and flooding James’ mouth with a torrent of semen. Surprised by the action, James swallowed the bitter fluids before pulling off.

“Guess I underestimated how sensitive this stuff made you,” James said in apology.

Qrow couldn't speak for a few moments, too wiped out from the force of his orgasm. When he was able to even think coherently again, the first thing he noticed was the familiar throbbing of his groin. “The fuck…” he panted. “Why’m I still hard?”

“That would be the increased stamina at work,” James deadpanned. He timidly removed his fingers, causing Qrow to hiss with disappointment. “Hush, love,” he assured, kissing the smaller man’s blushing forehead (obviously Qrow wasn't used to terms of endearment) and moving his hips into position. “It’s going to get better, I promise.”

With the utmost care, James slipped his metal member inside, making them both groan.

The stretch of his muscles, the warmth coming off the hard beast as it filled him—Qrow adored it, wrapping his legs around James’ hips to try and hurry their rhythm. 

James himself marveled at the tightness, almost as if Qrow was trying to squeeze every drop of pleasure from his length.

Once he was all the way inside, James pulled out almost to the tip before thrusting slowly back in, reaching deep into the huntsman until their hips were flush, and then repeating the process. Qrow released a loud moan, arms reaching around James’ neck and digging his nails into skin and metal. When James found his prostate again, Qrow arched his back and yelled profanity toward the ceiling.

James took this as an incentive to go faster and harder, driving a delicious series of continuous noises out of Qrow that only encouraged him to go wilder, rougher. And yet as amazing as the feeling of being inside someone after so long, James wanted more…

With a snarl, the general used his strength to pull Qrow into his lap, using gravity to drop-slam his lover onto his aching cock. The action caused Qrow to whimper once before doing nothing but scream silently, gripping those strong shoulders like his life depended on it.

The sight of that silent “o” and the way Qrow’s muscles fluttered around his cock are what finally drove James over the edge, roaring his orgasm even as he gripped that gorgeous ass hard enough to leave bruises and slammed it down over and over again to chase the feeling. This triggered Qrow’s own climax, catching the man off guard so close after his first, the force of it making him bite down on the flesh side of James’ collarbone.

They sat there for a few moments, gasping for air and holding each other close until the need took them once more. It took Qrow first, but he could already feel a difference in how slow it was taking him again; his higher metabolism was probably pushing the drug out faster than James’ was. It they kept going like this, the two would most likely burn it out at the same time.

Qrow mouthed at the bite mark he'd left, kissing and licking it in a primal way to make his mate feel better. James’ breath hitched, his softening dick returning to full hardness in a matter of moments under the ministrations.

James laid them back on the stained sheets bed before rolling over with his dick still in Qrow’s ass.

The shift disoriented Qrow for a moment, but he recovered quickly, positioning his hands and hips to ride the hard organ, eyes blazing like rubies as he gave himself further into his instincts and chased another orgasm. James just let him, grinning at the sensations and the way his boyfriend (could he call him that now?) so desperately worked to make them both crest. James helped him along, tugging at Qrow’s cock and matching each furious downward thrust.

James keened suddenly when Qrow changed tactics, rolling his hips and clenching as he took a few of James’ fingers and sucked them into his mouth. Those garnet eyes stared down arrogantly, priding himself at how quickly he was able to reduce the larger, more self-controlled man into a little puddle of pleasure.

When they came together once more, Qrow slipped off his cock and reached for the lube, coating his fingers in the stuff. He turned to James with a smirk on his face and a remaining crimson glint in his eyes. “The inside if your ass isn't metal, right?” he asked, leaning in close to suckle at the scar that ran down James’ body, making the other man groan. “Because I'd hate for my own dick to get crushed when I fuck you into the bed.”

James shook his head, bringing himself up on his elbows to watch Qrow begin to work his way into his ass. “I only needed to—ah!” he cried out when Qrow breached him. “Only needed to get a new butt cheek. Didn't need anything more than a lung and a few other organs—”

Qrow cut the man off by rubbing his prostate, making James shout again and push back against those fingers. “You’re dirty talk needs a little work there, soldier boy,” he purred, slipping another finger inside and twisting just so.

“Least m-my mouth’s…good at-at other things,” James tried to say haughtily, barely able speak due to Qrow’s ministrations.

“Hmmm, it most definitely is, Jimmy-boy,” Qrow agreed, all four fingers inside and spreading out the inner flesh. Then he leaned in close to that handsome red face, scarlet eyes flaring again as he reached an ear and nipped. “But not as good as my cock is going to feel when I make you mine.”

Before James could truly process this information beyond a moan, Qrow removed his fingers and slammed home. The suddenness of it even with all of the prep he had received was enough to get James shouting, each inside thrust a crescendo of lust that raced up the wires of his spine like lighting.

He reached up to caress Qrow’s fine ass and help them along, only to find them roughly held above his head as teeth bit and sucked at the general’s neck in retaliation.

“I don't think so, James,” Qrow scolded gently, transferring both his captive’s hands to the headboard. James could only cry out and clench around Qrow—from the action or the words, he couldn't say. “I'm the one in charge right now, and I don't want you to touch. Now be a good boy and keep your hands there.”

James bit his lip to keep a whimper from escaping, nodding at Qrow’s command. He was nearly tempted to disobey his lover, test the limits to see if the huntsman would use something—their discarded clothes, a belt—to tie his wrists to the headboard. Perhaps a suggestion for another day, he thought as Qrow wrapped a heavily lubricated palm up James’ silver shaft.

After Qrow finished them both off, he swung his body around for a classic sixty-nine, enjoying the oddly delicious metallic taste of James’ member as he swallowed it down. Then again, the broken noises the Atlas general was making might also have made the experience more enjoyable.

Next, he had James take him once again, this time from behind. When they came, it was together, with James’ fingers entwined with Qrow’s as they reached their peak.  
The effects of the drugs slowly began to fade out of their systems, allowing them to slow the pace of their frantic lovemaking and actually leaving them a few moments peace before their need took them again.

Their final moment came just hours before dawn, the two fighters lying on their sides as James gave short, shallow thrusts into Qrow, his prosthetic curled around the huntsman’s waist while he gingerly fisted Qrow’s cock with the other. Qrow had his own hands full, one gripping the sheets while the other was thrown behind them to pull lackadaisically at James’ scalp. Both men were exhausted after so many hours of nonstop fucking and cumming, and could feel the soft, sweet call of sleep beckoning them; they just needed this one last orgasm to do it.

Feeling the familiar tingle in his aching balls, Qrow turned his head slightly to meet James’ eyes. “Mmm…mmmh close,” he croaked, voice strained after yelling and screaming so many times.

James gave the smaller man a chaste kiss on the cheek, tightening his hold on Qrow’s phallus and picking up a bit of speed. “Me too,” he admitted, voice just as worn out as his lover’s. “Together?”

Qrow nodded. “Together,” he said quietly, shifting the hand that held the blankets until he met James’ larger palm. “Together…” he mouthed, moving their hands in sync as the strove for that ecstatic cliff one final time.

They released in near silence, nothing more than a huff of breath that may have vaguely sounded like the other’s name escaping from their mouths before being reduced to nothing but heaving, tired messes.

James slipped his reclining member out of Qrow’s hole, the effort making them both hiss from the oversensitivity. He then wrapped both arms around the huntsman, nuzzling into his neck as their eyelids grew heavier and heavier…

“Hey, James?” Qrow whispered before succumbing to his weariness.

“Yeah?” the general answered, eyes shut and already drifting.

“Ya know I love you, right?” Qrow knew he sounded ridiculous, needing to make sure he knew where they stood after all the affirmation and admissions, but couldn't find the energy to care.

James just gave a pleased hum, tugging his boyfriend (because screw it, he'll call the man anything he wanted in his head) closer. “Love you too, Qrow.”

*~*~*

Qrow blinked sleepy, bright sunshine and freshly awoken brain blurring his vision for a few moments.

He was aware of being surrounded by warmth, of a faint tremor against his back and some sort of loud rumble in his ear. His limbs were trapped at his side, encased in one metal and one muscular arm; while this normally would have made the warrior immediately struggle against what his fighting instincts told him was a bad position to be in…Qrow curiously felt safe, dare he even say comfortable.

He managed to wiggle an arm out enough to start affectionately stroking the gleaming silver arm, tracing the seams where the plates met, the heat coming off the prosthetic bringing back very pleasant memories from last night. From there, he eventually pieced together the wondrous sensations he was experiencing: the warmth from James’ body, the vibrations as his artificial lung processed air to keep the man breathing, and his loud snores rattling Qrow’s eardrums.

How a man with an iron lung managed to snore, Qrow would never know. He just wanted to fall back asleep in his lover’s—his _lover’s_ —arms…

There was a loud, repetitive beeping from the other side of the bed, startling him awake again. He was vaguely aware of remembering a similar sound from earlier; it was probably what woke him up in the first place. The offending sound came from a scroll that had been tossed to the edge of the massive bed carelessly during their love making.

Qrow decided to ignore it at first, believing it to be nothing more than some annoying insurance salesman or whatever, not worth fully waking up over. Or at least he thought it wasn't worth it—until it rang again not even two minutes after it finally stopped.

With a growl Qrow reached for it, the lunge making James grumble even as he cuddled closer to the huntsman. God dammit, the man was an adorable sleeping octopus! Whoever was calling better have a good reason for dragging Qrow out of the moment.

“What?” Qrow snapped into the receiver, not bothering to hide his contempt at whoever was calling.

A pause from the caller.

“ _…Qrow?_ ” a familiar voice in the other line asked with surprise.

Qrow couldn't bring himself to care enough to correct his attitude when he identified the owner of that voice. “Ozpin, you better have a good reason for calling me at whatever god awful hour this is!”

Another pause. “ _Qrow, it’s nearly one o’clock in the afternoon,_ ” the Beacon headmaster said with the utmost patience. It wouldn't exactly be the first time he’d called his oversleeping associate, after all.

Qrow pulled the scroll way to check the time; sure enough, it was 12:54 pm. “Oh,” he said into the receiver, calmer though no less ticked at the literal wake-up call. “That appears to be the case. I take it I'm late for our little club activities, aren't I?”

“ _That would appear to be the case,_ ” Ozpin said humorously. The faint sound of laughter in the background told Qrow that Glynda was there, enjoying having his own words turned against him. “ _But you don't appear to be the only one absent today._ ”

Behind him, James stiffened like a board, obviously wide awake and listening to their conversation. “ _It seems our dear General Ironwood has neglected to show up as well. I was in the process of calling his phone when you so graciously answered…_ ” The laughter on the other end grew louder, much to Qrow’s dismay.

“Crap!” James shouted, launching out of the bed and hurrying after his uniform. “Shit, I thought I’d set an alarm—fuck, where’s my belt, I thought I left it…” James said aloud, rushing around and searching for his clothes in a panic. “Qrow, tell him we’ll be there in an hour at the most—would you stop looking at me like that, it is very distracting.”

“I knew you could talk dirty with the right incentive, Jimmy,” Qrow purred, hearing Glynda’s giggles turn into full born chortles.

“Qrow…” James groaned in exasperation. “Ozpin is probably listening to every word we say!”

“ _Indeed he his, general,_ ” the old pervert confirmed over the speaker phone Qrow had just turned on. Qrow could practically see that small, pleased smile Oz always wore in situations like this no doubt plastered all over his face.

James’ face was beet red, making his little silver strip on his forehead really stand out. “ _And let me be the first to tell you that he expects you both to be here on time tomorrow. That should give you plenty of time to work on your ‘dirty talk,’ General Ironwood._ ”

Another voice, to faint for Qrow or James to hear, chuckled something to Ozpin. “ _Oh, and Glynda wishes to give you her congratulations. She thought you two would never—and I quote—‘get your heads out of your asses long enough to realize how bad you had it for each other._ ’” The sound of slurping coffee accompanied by all out howling laughter. “ _Good day to you both._ ”

The call ended, leaving a grinning Qrow and crimson James staring at each other.

Then Qrow stretched out on the bed seductively, making James gulp as he stared at the muscled body that he had spent so many hours with last night.

“So,” Qrow crooned. “You heard the man: get to work on that dirty talk, General.”


End file.
